%0 il "^^ ^^ LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, Cliaj). Copyright No, — M^ UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. POEMS BY / BELLE R. HARRISON. NEW YORK=r== COPYRIQHT, tB»B, OV G. W. Dillingha^n Co., Publishers. MDCCCXCVIII. {All rights reserved.} ^"t* Copy 1898. '•.«/-> /^r^ n i [-^. , , \« V> !■ » THIS VOLUME OF POEMS IS DEDICATED TO MY HUSBAND, JOHN CALHOUN HARRISON. " It is a fearful stake the poet casts, When he comes forth from his sweet solitude Of hopes and songs, and visionary things To ask the iron verdict of the world." — Miss L. E. Landon. 4 CONTENTS. FACE A Lullaby . . . . . . • ^3 Poesy 15 We May Not Know 16 Parson Pritchett 18 Hope .... 21 Sweet Sixteen 23 A Truant Lover 25 My Baby 26 The Coquette 28 For the Right 29 My Heart . 30 The Sleeping World • 33 Ma Belle • 34 Eliminate the I 36 The Sunny Southland • 39 My Three Guests . • 41 The Woodman • 45 A Slumber Song 47 Baby's Query . 49 Goldilocks . . 50 Me 'n John . • 52 Birds of Spring 55 Them Country Folks , • 57 [5] O CONTENTS. PAGB Ingratitude . .... 60 My Inspiration .... 61 The Sylvan Year . 62 Playing Lady, . 64 In the Gloaming . 66 Sadder than War . . 68 The Country School 70 Constancy 72 The Deef Ole Man • 75 The Mud Cake • 78 A Miserere . 80 A Mission 82 A Cradle Song • 83 The Summer Girl . 86 The Rubicon of Youth . 88 Cry Baby, Cry . 90 The Old Year 92 Unrecompensed . 96 Alabama 97 It is Well . • 99 Johnny-boy ICI The Passing of Autumn . . 104 Yanita . 106 The Going Man . 109 Be Glad and Sing . 112 Impotent • 115 Brain Children 117 My Love 119 An Apparition 121 True Greatness 122 De Profundis 123 My Lady and I 127 Life . 129 CONTENTS. 7 PAGB Three is a Crowd .... . 130 Womanhood .... . 132 InfeHce ..... • 133 A Difference of Opinion . . 137 The Impossible .... . 138 Mabel's Grace .... . 139 He Doeth All Things Well . 140 The Weeping Willow . 142 Teddy ..... . 144 The Domain of Thought . . 147 DARKY DIALECT. De Ole Sexton .... • 151 Tobe's Reply .... • 153 The Old Mammy .... . 154 De 'Lection Sure .... , 156 A Rat Trap .... . 158 A Wrong Inference . 160 A Plantation Scene . 161 Uncle Jake and the Levee . 163 The Descent of the Aeronaut . 165 Pomp's Defense .... . 166 The Darky's Heaven . 168 Pars De Hat Eroun' . 170 PUBLISHER'S PREFACE. There is an unmistakable intensity in these poems showing clearly an ebullition direct from the heart of the author. Some are grave, some are gay, some are phases of Southern life in clever dialect ; but no matter what the subject or theme, the entire collection is delightful. Many of the poems have been published before in various periodicals throughout the country. These are reproduced by permission of the editors, who invariably add a word of praise of the author's work. " The Home Journal " and the " Atlanta Con- stitution " extend their good wishes for the suc- cess of the book. Mrs. Harrison has been a con- tributor to both of these widely-circulating publica- tions. The editor of " Judge " says, " your contributions to Judge have been very popular. The little poem, Stole dem Breeches, (" Pomp's Defense ") was copied every where." The poem refers to a colored boy, Pomp, who is defending himself for having stolen a pair of breeches. It begins : [9] lO PUBLISHER S PREFACE. " I stole dem breeches, I 'knowledge de corn, But 'twant no crime ez sure cz you're born ; Ef de motiv' is right, den whar's de sin? I stole dem breeches ter be baptize' in." The author here shows that there are as many forms and degrees of right as there are personal points of view. " Mabel's Grace " appeared in " Puck." It is a child's poem and completely natural. Amongst bright stars in this galaxy, one shines out with especial significance for all who may read it. It was first published in the " New Orleans Times-Democrat," and is entitled " Eliminate the I." Here is one stanza. " You may not gather gold nor land. Nor wear a jeweled crown ; You may not sway the multitude. Nor gain a great renown ; But you'll always find a welcome, And your friends will wish you nigh, If you strive In conversation to Eliminate the I." The " Boston Transcript " published Mrs. Har- rison's first poem, " A Lullaby." This was set to music by a Boston composer. In its pages also ap- peared " De Profundis," " My Three Guests," and several others which are found in this collection. publisher's preface. II The latter is an exquisite conception, picturing deli- cately the entrance of Grief, Sorrow and Peace into the human heart. The finale runs, "Abide with me," I plead, " dear Lord, forgive ! Resigned, I do thy will, what e'er it be, Forgetting self, my life for others live And win a priceless immortality." That heavenly messenger, the angel Peace, From Grief and Sorrow brought me sweet release. In the prize contest for the best parody on Poe's '* Raven," " Current Literature " published Mrs. Harrison's " Rat Trap." It is the sad tale, (but withal, extremely funny) of a darky who went chicken stealing, but was caught in a rat trap and taken to a cell in the lock-up. He says, " In dat cell I still am sittin', chcwin' en tobaccer spittin', Honin' fur dem fat young pullets," etc. Nothing could be more refreshing than the simple yet complete manner in which this author handles the real. She makes use of no stilted expressions, and hence is always clear and convincing. Her in- sight into the peculiarities which make up the iden- tity of individuals is remarkable. Because of this, her characterization is fine, especially in all that con- cerns rural, village, and darky life in the South. There are pictures presented in this volume that should be treasured as types of that most unique class of humanity — the darky. 12 PUBLISHER S PREFACE. Altogether the collection is charming, and must be so pronounced by the most critical. The range of subjects is wide, but none too extended for the author's exceptional versatility. The poems are most gracefully constructed, and being mainly domestic, are of a healthy and abiding character. The sentiments of the author are sound, her sym- pathies warm and ready, and her knowledge of man- ners, character, and the varied incidents of ordinary life so thorough, that her poems cannot be found other than interesting. POEMS. A LULLABY. CROON me a lullaby, Soothe me to rest. Pillow my tired head Low on your breast ; Pass your hand drowsily Over ray eyes, Under your gentle touch Restfulness lies. Rock to and fro with me, Sing sweet and low to me, Swinging and singing Will lull me to rest. 13 14 A LULLABY. Fold your arms lovingly Over my heart, Sorrow will glide away, Trouble depart. Quietly resting, My senses beguiled, I'll peacefully sleep Like a worn-out child. Rock to and fro with me. Sing sweet and low to me. Hushaby, lullaby, Soothe me to rest. Smiling and dreaming, Bright visions unfold, The stars, intermingling. Weave fancies in gold ; The hum of the busy world, - Freighted with care, Will fade out in slumber like Mist from the air. Rock to and fro with me, Sing sweet and low to me. Hushaby, lullaby, Soothe me to rest. POESY. A FLOATING, fleecy cloud of poesy Swept o'er ray soul, and broke in dulcet song ; The music rose and fell in rhythmic flow, By prattling echo lightly borne along — With love the theme, love over all supreme, The light of every heart, the poet's dream. Will other clouds of poesy arise Like haloes round my head, or misty veil ? Or will they drift afar, like summer clouds, Nor heed the yearning cry, the pleading wail! — On wings aerial sailing swiftly by, Like phantom ships to reach the upper sky. 15 WE MAY NOT KNOW. A FRAGILE figure robed in costly gown, Reclines on snowy pillow soft as down. No tinge of color mantles brow or cheek, Too wan to smile, too weak to move or speak The wasted hands like waxen lilies lie, The pallid lips breathe forth a plaintive sigh. She views her weeping friends with dimming sight, At even-tide her spirit wings its flight. At even-tide, within a hovel bare. Where fever's fetid breath pollutes the air Upon a bed of straw a beggar lies, No loving friends are near to sympathize. She mutters broken words and snatches low, She feebly moans and tosses to and fro. At even-tide the restless soul is free, Within the confines of eternity, j6 WE MAY NOT KNOW. 1/ The child of wealth, was her soul pure and fair A precious jewel in a casket rare ? The beggar maid, was her soul dark within, Stained and discolored by defiling sin ? The rich are tempted and the poor are tried. Lusts of the flesh must needs be crucified. We may not know — sealed is the book of fate — If one or both shall enter Heaven's gate. Each sin resisted and each trial met, The stifling of a sigh or vain regret, Each tender thought, each sympathizing word, A loving heart by others' sorrow stirred — These things above all mere conditions rise, Like fragrant incense mounting to the skies. The Judge of all, who marks a sparrow's flight. Weighs human motives, thoughts, and deeds aright. PARSON PRITCHETT. IT was at protracted meetin', an' the country church was jammed, Eve'y pew was overflowin', an' the amen corners crammed. We was all a feelin' jubous, mighty solemn-like an' still. While the parson banged the pulpit tell he shuck the winder-sill. His hair was white as cotton, but he h'isted eve'y song — His skin it hung in wrinkles, but his lungs was good and strong — He said we all was sinners, but that when we come to die. We'd 'spect the Lord to furnish us a chariot from on high ; i8 TARSON PRITCHETT. ' 1 9 Or send us down a palace car to bear our souls away, When a hand car was sufficient for sich people any- day ; 'At we all was mean as gar-broth to resist the Sperit's call, Just to walk up to the mourners' bench, an' on our knees to fall, An' pray to be forgive for all the meanness we had done, we broke the Lord's commandments from the dawn tell set of sun. Then the choir it bust out singin', an' some sister raised a shout, She flopped her hands above her head an' let her voice ring out. Then the sinners 'gun to leave the pews like rats a burnin' house, An they kneeled down at the altar jest as still as any mouse, When some women from the city 'at was settin' nigh the door, They jumped up on the benches jest to see a little more. 20 PARSON PRITCHETT. One was lawyer Hobson's daughter, one a school marm, Nellie Brown, Ernother was a sister of the jestice of the town. But the parson spied them standin' dressed as fine as for a ball, An' he said, " You city Jezebels, jest set down one an' all. Profanin' of God's temple — you're as homely as you're mean ! God Almighty'dmade you handsome ef he'd wished you to be seen." I tell you what them highferlutes they stepped down on the floor. Then hitched arms with some city chaps an' marched out frough the door. They had come down for a frolic, so we boys had he'erd 'em say, But ole Parson Pritchett nailed 'em an' I guess they'll stay away. HOPE. WHEN all the world is dark and drear And stoutest hearts are weak with fear, When heavy clouds obscure the light And life seems an eternal night — Then Hope uplifts a banner high And points them to the upper sky. Atween the rifted clouds behold The sunshine sifts like grains of gold ! O weary hearts that sigh for rest, O bruised hearts by care oppressed, The way is dark, the time is long, A wail the burden of your song — No longer mourn, sweet Hope is nigh To point you to the upper sky, Atween the rifted clouds behold The sunshine sifts like grains of gold ! 21 22 HOPE. Celestial Hope ! speak words of cheer, The parting- clouds will disappear, The rising sun dispel the night And flood the world with blessed light. Uplift, uplift your banner high And point men to the upper sky. Atween tlie rifted clouds behold The sunshine sifts like grains of gold. SWEET SIXTEEN. HAVE you seen a winsome girlie with eyes of limpid blue, With lips as fresh as cherries red impearled with morning dew ? She lightly laughs with childish glee or breathes a gentle sigh, There is danger in her dimple, there is mischief in her eye. Bonnie, bonnie girlie, Girlie fair and sweet, With beating heart and ardent hope, I worship at her feet. Have you seen a dainty girlie whose rippling locks agleam Nor caught by comb or Psyche knot o'er snowy shoulders stream ? 23 24 SWEET SIXTEEN. Enmeshed by tresses spun of gold, a captive heart avers, Ah who would sigh for liberty when love a bosom stirs ? Witching, witching girlie, Girlie fair and sweet, Her lily hand in mine would make A happiness complete. Have you seen a modest girlie whose blushes come and go Like apple petals lightly tossed when sportive zephyrs blow ? She is graceful as Titania when tripping in the dell, My heart with love is throbbing as I own her magic spell. Dearie, dearie girlie. Girlie sweet and fair, The image of her winsome face Is graven everywhere. A TRUANT LOVER. BOVE a lily's chalice flashed An ardent humming bird avvhirring ; On poised wings he nectar sipped, The lily's waxen petals stirring, Then thrilling 'neath his fervid kiss, She waked to love's ecstatic bliss. But sated with acquired sweets, This wanton flirt and reckless rover, Now skims the verdant meadows o'er And blithely wooes the blushing clover. The lily's trusting heart may yearn, Her fickle love will ne'er return. 25 MY BABY. A CUNNING mite in robes of white, All lace embroidered o'er ; With tiny feet, so dimpled sweet, That never press the floor ; With wreathed smiles and baby wiles, With mischief brimming o'er — " Ah no, ah no, it is not so, I sadly fear you do not know My baby." He pulls your hair nor does he care How much the pain may be, He waves his hands like fairy wands And jumps and crows with glee. He loudly weeps, then gently sleeps, Upon his mother's Icnee — " Ah no, ah no, why vex me so ? You surely, surely do not know My baby." 26 MY BABY. 27 A sailor brave who rules the wave, Nor fears the ocean's roar, He's kind and true with eyes of blue That twinkle evermore. He loves his home though he may roam Upon a distant shore — " Ah yes, ah yes, come now, confess, Unless you knew how could you guess My baby ? " Though winds may tan this bearded man, And time may furrows plow ; Though life's rude shocks bring silver locks To crown his noble brow ; Though years may go and come, I know He'll still remain as now On land or sea he'll ever be, From time until eternity, My baby." THE COQUETTE. SHE laughs, the dimples come and go, She laughs, like rippling waters' flow, She laughs, but not at me ; oh no ! She smiles, the world is bright and fair. She smiles, my heart is light as air. She smiles, on me — I do declare ! She loves, ah would you like to know ? She loves, her sweet lips told me so. She loves — she loves red-headed Joe ! She weds, Joe's heart and mine beat fast^ She weds, we really are aghast ! She weds Old Moneybags at last! 28 FOR THE RIGHT. LET US stand for the right, whatever betide, Though friends may forsake us and foes may deride. Let us put on the armor and fight the good fight, Enlist in the struggle for right over might. Let us stand for the right though trials beset, Upholding a cause we can never regret ; Though sharp is the conflict and dangers assail. At last we will triumph, for right will prevail. Let us stand for the right, the noble, the true. These watchwords are potent to carry us through ; When tempted or tried, never falter nor fail. The darts of the enemy cannot avail. Let us stand for the right, no matter how long, The future will show us right overcomes wrong. As a pillar of strength then steadfastly stand, Resisting the evil that dwells in the land. 29 MY HEART. MY heart is like a prisoned bird That frets its wings without avail Its joyous song- no more is heard That gladdened every hill and dale. It flutters here and there, and chirps A note half-hearted and distressed ; It beats its head, which only serves To mar the beauty of its crest. Impatient of confinement drear, Its mournful lay is sad to hear. My heart is like a tender plant That gropes along a basement wall ; Its tendrils, like long slender arms. Reach impotently forth — to fall ; Its pallid leaves, and fragile stem, Its droopiug form — all pine for light ; 30 MY HEART. 3 1 Within those gloomy walls encased, Where noonday sun is semi-night, It withers for the sight of day. And breathes its life in sighs away. Uncage the bird, like arrow swift From bended bow, it wings its flight ; And in the heaven's ethereal blue Its prison home is lost to sight. As down the glen is often heard A bubbling streamlet's joyous notes, So on the air, from throat of bird, A strain of heavenly music floats. Its gratitude is sweetly trilled, O bird, your mission is fulfilled ! Transport the plant, and let it grow Where sunshine may its branches warm, And let the healthful breezes blow, And night dews kiss its blighted form — A bloom appears by magic art, Its loveliness no tongue can tell. The bird drinks nectar from its heart, The bee sips honey from its bell, The sweetest fragrance is distilled, Bright flower, your mission is fulfilled ! 32 MY HEART. Remove the barriers that bind My heart and let me freedom gain ; The darkness of my soul illume And never more will I complain. An altered look Life's book will wear, No longer blotted o'er with tears, Duty and pleasure sweetly blent Upon each shining page appears. With noble deeds my heart is thrilled, At last, my mission is fulfilled ! THE SLEEPING WORLD. THE world is asleep, all the cares of the day In the caverns of darkness are folded away. The murmuring winds have lulled her to rest, The billows have rocked her to sleep on its breast. The tree tops are crooning a soft lullaby While silvery stars shed a luster on high. The clouds like a canopy o'er her are spread. The zephyrs are cooling the air overhead, An infinite calm is breathed forth on the night, And hovers around in the mellow moonlight. The weary world sleeps, let h6r slumber at will. While night holds its breath, and all nature is still, 33 MA BELLE. FOR your eyes of heavenly hue, Heather bhie-bells steeped in dew, In whose depths my mirrored self Smiles at me like tiny elf, I dearly love you. For your braided silken hair Waving from a forehead fair. Like the gossamer in sheen, Like a poet's dream, I ween, I dearly love you. For your lips of perfect mold, Rosebuds ere they quite unfold, When they smiling ope to speak. Dancing dimples star the cheek, I dearly love you. 34 MA BELLE. 35 For your hands like lilies fair Breathing perfume on the air, For the gentle, timid clasp In my warm, impassioned grasp, I dearly love you. These are charms like flowers sweet. But alone — are incomplete — For your heart and mind, ma belle, Where the Christian graces dwell, I dearly love you. J ELIMINATE THE I. You may not gather gold nor land, Nor wear a jeweled crown ; You may not sway the multitude, Nor gain a great renown ; But you'll alv/ays find a welcome, And your friends will wish you nigh. If you strive In conversation to Eliminate the I. Your home is like a palace. And your wife is hard to beat ; Your sons are modern Chesterfields, Your daughters passing sweet : Without your aid, I truly think. These things your friends descry — So no matter what You talk about, Eliminate the I. 36 ELIMINATE THE I. 37 Say your neighborhood is charming, Or exactly the reverse, Discuss the latest german And its mazy steps rehearse ; Say grown up people fume and fret, Say babies always cry — But no matter what You talk about, Eliminate the I. Say Easter dresses will be trimmed In pleats or bias fold. The wind is shifting to the west, To-morrow will be cold ; You may talk on any subject Underneath the arching sky- But no matter what You talk about, Eliminate the I. You may worship high officials Or declare their course is wrong- Shall a few men rule a nation, When rights to all belong ? You may preach about the tariff, Lauding low, condemning high— 38 ELIMINATE THE I. But no matter what You talk about, Eliminate the I. Dost hope to be a Talleyrand ?— A diplomat to be ? — Then treasure this advice— 'twill prove Invaluable to thee. The rule is imiversal, Will to every case apply — No matter what You talk about, Eliminate the I. THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND. IN our sunny Southland Balmy breezes blow, Verdant fields ashimmer Waving to and fro. Luscious fruits depending, Whose blush is like the dawn, From May till chilling Autumn Proclaims the summer gone. Merry birds sing sweetest. Dancing hours are fleetest, In the sunny Southland — Elysium of the blest. Rifted clouds revealing Arching skies of blue ; Hearts are warm and tender, Friends are leal and true. 39 40 THE SUNNY SOUTHLAND. Purple twilight shadows Speak quiet to the soul ; Where gleams the mystic moonlight Fond lovers often stroll. Loving hearts will meet thee, Smiling faces greet thee, In the sunny Southland, A welcome waits for thee. Mellow sunlight lingers, The beams are beaten gold ; The riches of our Southland In verse can ne'er be told. Creamy Vv'hite magnolias Breathe forth a sweet perfume, The queenly rose and myrtle In rarest colors bloom. Come to the land of flowers, Come to its sylvan bowers, Come to the sunny Southland — This garden spot of ours. MY THREE GUESTS. GRIEF. A STORM is raging and a fierce wind blows, While awesome peals of thunder rend the air ; Like darting tongues of flame the lightning throws, Below and overhead, a lurid glare. Who is it breasts the angry wind and rain And hies with frighted steps across the plain ? A being weird and wild, with look of woe. With garments torn and drifting with the gale; Whose flowing locks in great disorder show An eager, haggard face that's deathly pale. The frantic accents and the falling tears, Together fill my heart with nameless fears. 41 42 MY THREE GUESTS. With garments dripping- from the beating rain, It wrings its hands and paces to and fro ; Tlien cries aloud and sobs in bitter pain, " Repel me not, though harbinger of woe." I cannot bid a welcome, well I know When once within, it never cares to go. Oh, Grief unbidden, aye and undesired, Unwelcome visitor ! untimely guest ! My brain is reeling and my soul is fired, While bitter thoughts are v>'arring in my breast. Despair, like bird of evil omen preys, Destroying rest at night and happy days. SORROW. There came another guest unto my door. The day was coldly bleak and sadly drear, The drifting snow was lying on the moor. And from the eaves there dripped anon a tear. Before this guest, Grief made a hasty flight, And through the barren waste was lost to sight. A sad-eyed woman entered in the door. With trailing robes of sober, sombre gray ; MY THREE GUESTS. 43 With lagging- steps and weary feet and sore, She looked a wounded deer who stood at bay. Distressing plaints she heaved and deep-drawn sighs, While tears were welling in her mournful eyes. I could not bar her entrance to my room, My lonely heart gave echo to her sighs ; Though feeling that a deep, abiding gloom Had settled on my home as daylight dies. Ah, Grief prepared the way for Sorrow drear, I fold her to my breast without a fear. Though days may come, may go, I do not care, My mem'ry feeds upon the buried past. Indifference succeeding grim despair, While dark funereal shadows gather fast. When wounds are deep and bitter to be borne As long as life may last the scars are worn. PEACE. A gentle calm had brooded through the day. The night is peaceful as a child in sleep, Disquiet and unrest had passed away, While loving stars their ceaseless vigil keep. 44 MY THREE GUESTS. The silver moon, with mellow light serene, Sits on her high-arched, heavenly throne a queen. Was Sorrow gone ? each room I careful scanned, I looked in vain some trace of her to find ; When lo ! an angel clasped my trembling hand And said, " Rejoice, I bring you peace of mind. Poor suffering heart, look up and humbly pray, There dawns for you a brighter, better day." To souls all tempest-tossed by waves of grief The Master cries, in tender voice, " Be still ;" From Sorrow's thrall he sends a sure relief To hearts that bow submissive to his will. O stricken one. He saith, who knowest best, " Come unto me and I will give you rest." " Abide with me !" I plead, " Dear Lord, forgive ! Resigned, I do thy will what e'er it be, Forgetting self, my life for others live And win a priceless immortality." That heavenly messenger, the angel Peace, From Grief and Sorrow brought me sweet release. THE WOODMAN. ''TT^HE woodman in clearing the forest I Labors witli patience and skill ; Swinging the axe with his brawny arms, And strength of a dauntless will. No towering tree in the woodland Is felled by a single blow — By countless strokes it totters and falls To the sounding earth below. The axe and the wedge and heavy maul Are plied by a master hand, Till out of the gloom and the shadow Emerges the new cleared land. The world is a forest before us — We hew our way to the light, With the axe and wedge of power and skill Fearlessly wielded aright. 45 46 THE WOODMAN. Obstructions barring- our progress By repeated blows are felled, Till the sunlight smiles in approval, The darkness and gloom dispelled. We must ne'er look back to the starting. Nor swerve to the left or right, But work with resolute arm and will. Hewing our way to the light. A SLUMBER SONG. SLEEP, my darling ! Stars are peeping, Gently slumber without fear ; Butterflies and red-top clover In the darkness disappear. Kitty purrs in drowsy measure, Bunny to his hole has fled, E'en the cricket chirrups fainter, As I watch beside your bed. Sleep, my darling, whilst the shadows Softly steal o'er wood and field ; By the dusky robes of evening All your playmates are concealed. Fold your arms, like wings of birdling. Tuck your head and still your voice ; Till the morning clothed in splendor Bids the silent earth rejoice. 47 48 A SLUMBER SONG. Sleep, my darling, do not waken Till the golden arrows fly ; And the sunbeams kiss your eyelids As a luster fills the sky; Till the morning-glory blossoms Swift unfold to greet the day, And the dew-drops glint and sparkle On the flowerets bright and gay. You will then be fresh and winsome As a rosebud bathed in dew, Like a lark, be full of music As your frolics you renew. Then, with carol glad and gleesome, Fill the air with music sweet, Till the halls and rooms re-echo With the sound of dancing feet. BABY'S QUERY. «< T Esus, lover of my soul, I Let me to thy bosom fly," «k^ Crooned a mother soft and low As a soothing^ lullaby. " I know what's er butterfly," The drowsy baby made reply, " I caught one once er skimmin' by, But tell me — what's er bosomfly ?" 49 GOLDILOCKS. EWARE of the snare of goldilocks ! What mischief was wrought to heart of man, What trouble brought with danger fraught, By goldilocks since the world began. Goldilocks ever are sirens fair, Combing their tresses both long and well, Of their luring smiles and wiles beware ! They mesh the heart in a magic spell. For flowing locks of a burnished gold That glint and gleam with an amber light, Like jeweled eyes of the serpent old, Ensnare the heart, but the soul affright. Or hidden away in graceful curves Of a coiled fold, is Cupid bold, Who wings a dart that will pierce a heart, — O, danger lurks in a nest of gold. 50 GOLDILOCKS. 5 1 E'en mermaids swaying- on crested waves And plaiting garlands of precious pearls To braid in their sun-kissed goldilocks, Will weave your heart in their wealth of curls. O flee, ere you sleep in the briny deep ! They beckon you on with arms of snow, Then laugh as the waters o'er you flow, Chanting a requiem sweet and low. Beware of the snare of goldilocks ! What mischief was wrought to heart of man, What trouble brought with danger fraught, By goldilocks since the world began. ME 'N JOHN. N' igh erbout ten year ago this Comin' May, — O I niver kin forgit the Blessed day, — Me 'n John wuz ridin' long, En — I wonder ef 'twas wrong — In er warm en narrer prisen My han' lay inside er hissen. The dog-wood platters shone ez White ez snow ; The ole man's beard wuz wavin' To en fro. Me 'n John wuz mighty still Ez the grey mare clum the hill, En he whispered, edgin' nigher, ** Won't you p'int the day, Maria ?" 52 ME 'N JOHN. 53 The honey-suckle blushed er Rosy red ; The trumpet-flower hearn the Words he said. Me 'n John wuz fur erway Frum the worl' that blessed day ; Jess us two — en birds en flowers — ■ While the minutes grew to hours. 'Taint no matter ef it is er Growin' late, When two happy hearts tergether Palpertate. Me 'n John was still ez mice, But we dwelt in paradise. Sperits lighter than er feather, Ez we jogged erlong tergether. Nigh erbout ten year ago this Comin' May,— I kin smell them flowers like it Wuz ter-day. Me 'n John hev joy en woe, Pain en pleasure ez we go ; But life's trials we kin weather Whilst our hearts is boun' tergether. 54 ME 'N JOHN. Granny's grave lies over yonder On the hill, En our cripple boy is nigh her, Col' en still. Me 'n John, when work is done, Kneels down thar at set er sun. Ez the breese goes floatin' by us, Pears ter us like they is nigh us. But we couldn't 'spect ter live Withouten sorrer ; We kin never count erpon er Comin' morrer. Me 'n John knowed it wuz best When them suff'rers went ter rest. God tuck back what he had given, Fur ter dwell with Him in heaven. Nigh erbout ten year ago this Comin' May, — Now er gang er chillen roun' us Romp en play. Me 'n John is happy still Ez when the grey mare clum the hill En he whispered, edgin' nigher *' Won't you p'int the day, Maria ?" BIRDS OF SPRING. CHEERILY, merrily, heralds of Spring, Carol your melodies, poised on the wing-. Pour from your slender and velvety throats Ravishing strains of musical notes. Tiny, bright songsters, dainty and sweet, First in the morning your Maker to greet. His praises you warble on hill-top and plain Till jubilant nature repeats the refrain — Your happiness trilling. With melody filling, Filling and thrilling Our hearts with delight. Building your nests in leafy-screened bowers, Sipping the sweets that well in the flowers. Laving your wings in the clear, limpid stream, Drinking the waters that sparkle and gleam, Swaying on tree-top or pillowed at rest — 55 56 BIRDS OF SPRING. Contented with life if barren or blest — A message of gladness and brightness you bring ; We welcome your coming, sweet heralds of Spring. Your happiness trilling, With melody filling, Filling and thrilling Our hearts with delight. THEM COUNTRY FOLKS. <« -x "C THY, hello, Jim McCracken, W Come, shake er finger, do ; Whar hev you kep' yose'f, I say, En me er huntin you ? I've got er invite fur us both — I 'low you'll want ter go — Frum them two gals we met las' spring At Roberson's side show. When they know that folks is comin', Them people — so I've hearn — With er broom-sedge broom they sweep the 5''ard, En they murder er chicken en churn. "The cross-eyed one is youen's. En the freckled face is mine. Behin' them two mules, Buck en Bill, We'll git out thar by nine. Jus' dress up in yo' Sunday best ; Put on yo' Cleveland hat, 57 58 THEM COUNTRY FOLKS. Them yaller shoes with p'inted toes, Yo' poky dot cravat. When they know that folks is comin', Them people — so I've hearn — With er broom-sedge broom they sweep the yard, En they murder er chicken en churn." They found them gals at meetin'; Their beaux wuz settin' nigh ; Two country chaps, that looked like Japs, Er castin' uv sheep's eye. •' La, Mister Bob en Mister Jim," They 'lowed when church wuz through, " Come home en hev er bite with us, En spen' the evenin', do." When they know that folks is comin', Them people — so I've hearn — With er broom-sedge broom they sweep the yard. En they murder er chicken en churn. They driv behin' them couples Fur better than five mile — The gals would snicker and laugh out — They couldn't crack er smile. THEM COUNTRY FOLKS. 59 They kep' behin' the crowd all day, It made 'em fume and fret, Them hill-ites hed the inside track, En they kep' it too, you bet. Both the gals wuz mighty cordial — Them country folks, I've hearn. When they know that comp'ny's comin', They murder er chicken en churn. They shuck their ban's at partin', En hoped they'd come ergin. Them city chaps, they 'lowed they would — Them hill-ites gin er grin. They driv on home without er word, Fur, stranger, they wuz mad, Ter cut er dash, en make no mash, It sholy wuz too bad. Them city chaps don't keer no more Fur country folks, I've hearn, That sweep the yard with er broom-sedge broom. En murder er chicken en churn. INGRATITUDE. WHEN burdened by a load of care, How many kneel in fervent prayer ; And yet forget to render praise When blessings crown the after days. Receiving all, they nothing give, Content as parasites to live. 60 MY INSPIRATION? A LOVELY woman, like the eglantine Blooming in arid plain, In whom all gracious gifts combine, Devoid of every stain — Possessing soul as pure as snowy dove That circles in the arching blue above. Her heavenly gifts, like sparkling rainbow hues, The bow of promise form, Renewed hope in doubting hearts infuse To meet life's fiercest storm ; Her graces, like prismatic hues, unite To form a perfect whole of spotless white. 6i THE SYLVAN YEAR. BEHOLD the bards are sighing That the sylvan year is dying- Let her die ! Lo, for many hundred years, On as many hundred biers, We've seen her lie. The bards and year both lie, Ananias-like they try This little game. You may hit her with a brick. You may pound her with a stick. Yet all the same — When the trees put on their green, Then the sylvan year is queen, Young and spry. Like the principles of truth. Or the wandering Jew, forsooth. She cannot die. 62 THE SYLVAN YEAR. 63 Though the sobbing winter rain Dribbles forth a sad refrain, Yet what of that ? The sylvan year contrives To have as many lives As a cat. Oh, she will live to be The last leaf upon the tree, This sylvan year ; And with the insect-powder man And the patent motor fan, Reappear. PLAYING LADY. I WANT to p'ay lady, dear mamma, Does you tare if I put on your jess ? An' fan wid your fan jus' a little, O p'ease, mamma, won't you say yes ? I'll be jus' as tickler as tan be An' pin the long twail up before. P'ease tuck up my turls wid a hair pin, An' the wibbon you buyed from the 'tore. I dressed her up fine — as she wished me — And smiled at her dignified mien, Then stooped down and kissed the wee- midget, Who carried herself like a queen. As she paced to and fro, just before me Her lengthy trail sweeping the floor, I thought what a quaint little woman, Is Mabel, whose summers are four. 64 PLAYING LADY. 65 But a pucker disfigured her features, And her dimples were lost in a frown, As she came and stood meekly beside me. And said as she shyly glanced down ; " Does ladies go bare-footed, mamma ? Dey'd be 'shamed of dey selves if dey did, I'll put on my shoes in a minute An' den my bare foots will be hid." So she seated herself on the carpet And put on a stocking and shoe, With the other in hand, naively asking, " Now mamma dear, what mus' I do ?" I glanced down to gather her meaning, A puzzled look clouded her face ; Then lifting her brown eyes she added With a look full of infantile grace : *' Which foots does this udder shoe b'long on ?' " Why sweet, are you asking for fun ?'" " O no, I had weally fordotten. It b'longs on the bare headed one." IN THE GLOAMING. THE leaves are sere and turning brown, And swirling as they tumble down ; The dusky smoke from archway flies In curls and waves athwart the skies ; The summer clouds of rarest blue, To sombre grey have changed their hue ; The boughs are bending on the trees And swaying with each passing breeze ; A mournful sound is in the air, An ululation of despair ; The dreary rain begins to fall, Which throws an added gloom o'er all. Dame Nature weeps o'er glories fled, Evanished beauties — beauties dead. The lovely buds and blossoms gay. With winter's chill have passed away ; The music of the joyous bird 66 IN THE GLOAMING. 67 In bush and tree, no more is heard. The wailing wind and sobbing rain Alone are voiced upon the plain. And shall I sing in joyous strain, With lips benumbed and heart in pain, A paean glad, an anthem loud. While vanished hopes are in their shroud ? The hopes of youth forever fled. My early friends now lost or dead — For them I sigh and sadly mourn. My aching heart for them is torn. I cannot sing a gladsome note, 'Twill die before it leaves my throat. My frozen heart can but essay. A solemn dirge — a mournful lay. Then welcome night, that screens from sight The barren waste — the winter's blight. Within thy folds of sable hue, I'll hide my tired heart from view. SADDER THAN WAR. A SOLDIER, though way-worn and weary From the tiresome march of the day, Steadily toils till the wee sma' hours, Painfully stitching away. His thoughts are with Nell and the children. As his needle he patiently plies, Darning great rents in his trousers, While tear drops are dimming his eyes. His comrades are sleeping around him And peacefully dreaming of home, Of the time when the war will be ended And no longer they sadly will roam. He nods, keeping time with his needle That sailor-like goes in and out, And the rents in the trousers are mended When he hears a far sentinel shout. 68 SADDER THAN WAR. 69 "To arms, boys, the foe is advancing !" The soldiers respond to the call. In a twinkling the camp is confusion, As they hasten to conquer or fall. " Howly Moses, my breeches, who's got 'era ?" Swears Mike, at the vexing delay, "Arrah, here's the spalpeen I'm afther," And jerks the darned trousers away. Ah, sadder than war is the story — That soldier so weary and worn, Had mended the Corporal's trousers, While his own remained ragged and torn. THE COUNTRY SCHOOL. ALONG the woodland path where flowers blow, Where lichens, ferns and hooded mosses grow. Where robin redbreasts peep from branches tall, And autumn leaves in rich profusion fall ; Along this path, with weeds and grass o'er-grown, Where hide the sweetgum burr and fragrant cone, A little band of eager girls and boys Awake the sleeping echoes with their noise. Adown this woodland path the beech and bay- Are clustered round a house where ivies stray, Above the door is graceful columbine, And on the air a breath of muscadine. The partridge lifts its head and whirs away. The squirrel drops his nut nor dares to stay. When comes this band of romping girls and boys To wake the sleeping echoes with their noise. 70 THE COUNTRY SCHOOL. 7I Within the door the teacher's girlish face, Though rudely framed, withal is full of grace ; Her hands uplifted swing the ancient bell, And loud and louder doth its music swell. " The sun is high and school begins to-day, Come on, come on," its brazen tongue doth say To all the joyous little girls and boys Who wake the sleeping echoes with their noise. *' Come on, come on, improve your time to-day, No longer loiter on the way to play, To gather golden-rod and berries red To twine in wreaths about each other's head. Come, con your lessons o'er till school is out, Then make the woods resound with laugh and shout; Yea, wake the sleeping echoes with your noise, O happy hearted little girls and boys." CONSTANCY. MY heart's bereaved, I'm sorely grieved, All hope forever fled ; My loving- wife, my joy, my life, Is numbered with the dead. "A faithful mother ! not another Can fill her sainted place, Her children gaze in dread amaze Upon her pallid face. " Their dewy eyes in sad surprise Are lifted to mine own ; Their childish grief will find relief, While I will live to mourn. " To mourn her dead, her spirit fled, Who erst my days beguiled, In sorrow's vale with burdened wail, I'll nurse my grief — so wild, 72 CONSTANCY. 73 *' My love is gone and I'm forlorn My aching heart will break ! My little son and baby one, I live for their sweet sake. ** I'll shed a tear upon her bier, Then sadly turn away, Lead by the hand my orphan band, Nor hope a happier day." The willows wave above her grave, The branches spreading wide, Her little sons, her cherished ones. Are sleeping by her side. Her husband dear who shed a tear, And sadly turned away ; Who mourned his loss, a heavy cioss, Enjoys a happier day. A bonny bride is by his side, " T'is love's first dream," he says, With youth renewed a maid he wooed, To bless and charm his days. 74 CONSTANCY. O maiden fair, do not despair, Should young- men tardy prove, A widowed heart, with Cupid's dart Transfixed, will seek your love. Throughout the laud these vows of sand Are made o'er woman's grave, But vows of sand cannot withstand The force of Lethe's wave. THE DEEP OLE MAN. ONCT was peert an' activ' An' enjoyed this mortal sp'ere ; But all them times is over sence I'm stone deef in my year. I could allers tell 'twas mornin', For the cock crowed loud an' clear, I didn't need no clock till hard Uv hearin' in my year. I never larned ter read or write, Fur schoolin' wuz so dear, What er comfort ef I knowed how, now I'm stone deef in my year. The worl' looks sad an' differ'nt No matter whar I peer, An' vittles don't taste natchell sence I'm stone deef in my year. 75 ']6 THE DEEF OLE MAN. The friends that use' ter set with me Now quickly disappear When I go to the tavern, fur I'm stone deef in my year. None uv 'em likes ter scream an' bawl, Sometimes I drap er tear Fur the lonesome times I'm havin' sence I'm stone deef in my year. I don't know who's the president, Fur Grant is dead, I hear ; I've had ter drap my country sence I'm stone deef in my year. This Ian' is goin' ter catarack, An' politicks, I fear Is gittin' mightey twisted sence I've gone deef in my year. When I talk erbout er candidate The folks they laugh an' jeer. They low I aint got jedgement now I'm stone deef in my year. THE DEEF OLE MAN. 77 An' maybe they is half way right, Fur eve'ything seems queer To er man that's hard uv hearin, when He's stone deef in his year. It won't be long I'm thinkin' Tell I'm laid upon my bier, 'Twon't matter then I'm deefer than Er gate post in my year. Fur when the morn uv Jedgement breaks, An' Gabriel's horn I hear, I'll shout, fur then no longer I'll Be stone deef in my year. THE MUD CAKE. LITTLE drops of water, Little grains of sand, Make the dainty mud-cake In the baby's hand. Little sunbeams sifting From a home on high. And the gentle zephyrs Make the mud-cake dry. Then the little darling, Happy it will be ; Dolly '11 have a party Out upon the lea. Kitty be invited. Rover will be there, While baby will be seated In her wicker chair. 78 THE MUD CAKE. Thus a little mud-cake, Humble though it be, Gives an hour to baby Of sweet felicity. 79 A MISERERE. HEART, what means your plaint to-day, The skies are fair to see, Can tints of blue and opaline Give aught of pain to thee ? The world is kind and friends are true, A halcyon life is thine, Encased within a loyal breast O heart, why thus repine ? No hunger gnaws — no carking care — Nor trouble doth annoy, And yet the blissful present holds No satisfying joy. The warm south wind is blowing, heart, The rarest flowers bloom. And yet no glow illumes within Where bides a prescient gloom. 80 A MISERERE. 8l No more an alleluia sounds, You breathe a minor strain ; heart, what means your plaint to-day? Your mute appeal is vain. Your voiceless agony I feel, O heart, be still, beat low, 1 fear — I know not what I fear — Some great impending woe ! A MISSION. ACH opportunity for good embrace, And live to elevate a fallen race. Discerning- wrong your hands may right, Ne'er pause to ask The author of the wrong — undo it ! Be this your task. We all are brothers, if we lend a hand, Fraternal love will dominate the land. 82 A CRADLE SONG. {Fond Nonsense.^ THE world is full of pictures ; but the dearest and the best, Is a mother softly crooning to the baby on her breast: " Go to sleep, sweet by-yo, Shadows creep, sweet by-yo, Don't you weep nor sigh-yo, — Hush-a-baby-by." With a rapt expression singing to her darling baby boy, All the cares of day are lifted, joy remains without alloy : " Hush-a-by, dear by-yo, Mother's nigh, dear by-yo. Don't, my baby, cry-yo, — Precious baby boy." 83 84 A CRADLE SONG. But the little sprite, resisting cradle songs, is full of glee, Crowing, dimpling, full of mischief, dancing on his mother's knee : " Sweetly rest, dear by-yo, On mother's breast, dear by-yo, 'Tis birdie's nest, my by-yo, — B3'-yo-baby-by." See the mother smile responsive, as a rosebud mouth is kissed. Fold him gently to her bosom, as he shakes his tiny fist. Still she sings her " By-yo, Shut your little eye-yo ; Baby, won't you try-yo. To go to sleep, by-yo !" For a frolic he is eager, and resents the lullabies, Kicks and stiffens in his fury, frets and lustily he cries. " Don't you scream, dear by-yo. Sweetly dream, dear by-yo, On slumber's stream, dear by-yo, Hush-a-baby-by !" A CRADLE SONG. 85 Thus she rocks and sings to baby, softly, sweetly o'er and o'er, With a patience unexhausted, for two weary hours or more. '* 'Tis twelve o'clock, my by-yo. So crows the cock, my by-yo, I sing and rock, my by-yo, — Sing and rock, by-yo." Ah, her loving task is over, for the curly head droops low. And the wooing notes are silent, and the rocking to and fro. " I see your eyelids close, dear. In slumber's sweet repose, dear, Be sure to sleep, not doze, dear, — Hush-a-baby-by." Bending low, the mother tucks him in his cradle snug and warm. Breathes a prayer unto the Father to protect her child from harm. No more we hear her " by-yo," Her crooning " lullaby-yo," Her soothing " hush-a-by-yo, Hush-a-baby-by." THE SUMMER GIRL. THE summer girl doth now unfurl Her banners to the breeze, Delsarte's chart and Ma'm'selle's Art Have fashioned her to please. Her jewels flash, she cuts a dash, The women may condemn; She little cares if she ensnares The hearts of all the men. The summer girl can deftly twirl Her parasol or fan, Can promenade in shine or shade, Nor freckles fear nor tan. The summer girl with hair a-curl. With frills and furbelows, With winning smiles and witching wiles Will captivate the beaux. 86 THE SUMMER GIRL. 8/ They lightly whirl this summer girl, Held in a close embrace, Soft nothings say, then glide away To give another place. This summer girl with teeth of pearl, This summer girl I sing, Wears jewels rare — yet I declare. Has no engagement ring ! Poiirquoi ? There's been a crash and " papa's " cash. And all his precious stock. Slid with the bank and quickly sank, It was a fearful shock The winds blow keen — this quondam queen, A summer girl no more — Now hies her home no more to roam Where billows lave the shore. This summer girl without a curl, "A maiden all forlorn,' Is learning how to milk the cow, "The cow with the crumpled horn " THE RUBICON OF YOUTH. WE launched a boat and were soon afloat When the golden sun was high, The dancing wavelets mirrored forth The beauties of earth and sky. They shimmered and shone with rainbow hues, Assuring each heart of a blissful cruise. Our spirits were light as the sparkling spray, Nor fears nor cares oppressed, The World — a mystical dream of youth, The Elysium of the blest. Our songs burst forth in a joyous strain. And our laugh rang out in a glad refrain. The reeds and willows that fringed the bank Of the Rubicon's flowing stream. Were swiftly reached by the oarsman Time, And we waked from a halcyon dream. The anchored boat on the western shore. And furled are its sails forever more ! THE RUBICON OF YOUTH. 89 Life's duties await us — its toil and strife — With pleasures that blossom between ; And memory's walls will alone reflect The Rubicon's silvery sheen. Yet I love to muse as the years flit by, On that wondrous cruise 'neath the arching sky. CRY BABY, CRY. Dedicated to Sterling A. Wood. Jr. e's little Cry Baby from Cry Baby Town, Mayhap you have heard of this place of renown, Mayhap you're acquaint with the dwellers therein Who keep up a noisy, continual din. He's little Cry Baby from Cry Baby Town, He lifts up his voice when the sun goes down. You rock him and toss him, you cuddle and kiss. But all your caressing is taken amiss. He's little Cry Baby from Cry Baby Town, He opens the ball with a fret and a frown ; The dancers are papa and mamma and nurse, Who dance though they scold and declare him perverse. 90 CRY BABY, CRY. 9I He's little Cry Baby from Cry Baby Town, The pink feet are weaving beneath a white gown. The wee, chubby fists waving wildly about — In terrible temper he raises a shout. This little Cry Baby from Cry Baby Town, Melodious melodies quickly can drown. From squealing and squalling the tears swiftly chase A-down his fat cheeks in a riotous race. Yet little Cry Baby from Cry Baby Town, Behaves like a saint till the sun goes down. We list with delight to the googoo he sings, An angel of light newly reft of his wings. He watches the sunbeams that gaily flit in And crows with delight when they sparkle and spin. He tells you " bye bye," sweetly kisses his hand. The smartest wee baby, that dwells in the land ! This little Cry Baby from Cry Baby Town, Should close his blue eyes when the sun goes down, Should nestle his head on a fond mother's breast, The day is for play, but the night is for rest. THE OLD YEAR. IN a corner of a cornfield Where the sarsaparilla grew, Crouched a gaunt and senile figure, While the north wind nipping blew. I stopped, and thus accosted him : " Old man, what is your name ?" " Ungrateful mortals call me, sir, I say it to their shame — 'The Shank of the Year,' While they laughingly jeer ; * The Shank of the Year,' While they chaffingly sneer." And he wiped from his faded eyes a tear. " When I was born the brazen bells Pealed forth a joyous chime, A royal welcome greeted me From Earth's remotest clime. 92 THE OLD YEAR. 93 I showered the gifts on all mankind, A bounteous harvest smiled, The voice of loved ones blessed their homes, And weary hours beguiled. Now hear them jeer At ' the Shank of the Year,' And chaffingly sneer At ' the wrinkled old year.' " And he brushed from his sunken cheeks a tear, *' I am dying here, deserted. On a mound of withered leaves. The callous world recks not my fate, No pitying spirit grieves. Once my brow was wreathed with roses, Once I held a sceptred sway, But the end is fast approaching. And ungrateful mortals say : * 'Tis the Shank of the Year,' And they laughingly jeer ; ' A dotard, we fear. Is the palsied old year.' " He tottered and fell as the words smote his ear. 94 THE OLD YEAR. " Men have slighted sacred duties, Solemn vows remain unpaid, When I uttered words of warning They would answer, undismayed : ' On the morrow we will hearken ; Wait a season,' Pleasure calls, We will heed the voice of Wisdom When the blissful Present palls. You are dismal and drear, Your look is severe, Your vision is blear, You're ' the Shank of the Year—' " And a sob shook the frame of the heart-broken seer, " Lo ! a stripling comes to greet them, One they never saw or knew. Outstretched arms receive him gladly While they pledge allegiance true. All forgot the tried and faithful, He who served them to the end. On a frozen mound of stubble Prone he lies — without a friend ; ' The Prince draweth near, The joyous New Year, THE OLD YEAR. 95 Why should we revere The Shank of the Year ? ' " He shivered and shook on his frozen bier. " Ha, ha, they deridingly laugh, These mortals — behold them look back ; Pursuing, and gaining each step, Father Time follows fast on my track." With a powerful sweep of his scythe Every obstacle falls as he goes, And the *' Shank of the Year " lieth dead — Unwept by the mortals, his foes. "The Shank of the Year " No longer need fear That mortals will jeer, Or deridingly sneer, For pulseless and still is the stricken Old Year. UNRECOMPENSED. THE painter early toiled and late to win an honored name ; The sculptor reached aloft to grave on pinnacle of fame ; The poet, scholar, statesman wrought with con- secrated aim. In time their zealous hopes were quenched, each aspirant expired, Nor one attained the distant goal his throbbing heart desired. But who avers their work was lost, their, earnest lives were vain ? Their bitter loss will ultimate in future thousands' gain, And noble effort elevates High Art to grander plane, 96 ALABAMA. ALABAMA, here we rest, By the gods divinely blest, Nature's largess at our feet, Earth and sky in beauty meet ; In summer's sun or winter's cold, Behold our blessings manifold. Alabama, here we rest, By no tyrant foe oppressed. Peace and plenty reign supreme, Life, a calm unruffled stream Onward flows by many an isle, Where sirens chant and houris smile. Alabama, here we rest, Zephyr fanned and breeze caressed, Roses blush from May to May, Mock birds sing on every spray. Realm of beauty, dream of bliss, There is no fairer land than this ! 97 98 ALABAMA. Alabama, here we rest Tranquilly upon thy breast. Here our household altars rise Canopied by southern skies. Grateful hearts hosannas raise In voicing Alabama's praise. Forced by fate's decree to roam Afar from friends and childhood's home, Where'er the clime, whate'er the scene, Though oceans widely roll between — O this shall be my last request, On Alabama soil to rest. IT IS WELL. WHEN the skies are tinted blue, And your friends are leal and true, When the carpet 'neath your feet Blossoms with the floweret sweet, You can say, " It is well !" When your heart is full of glee. And the birds sing blithe and free, When you know not ruth nor care, All the world is bright and fair, You can say, " It is well !" But if clouds o'erspread the sky. Lowering darkly from on high ; Peals of thunder rend the air, Lightning flashing here and there, Can you say, It is well ?" When your day is full of grief And the night brings no relief, 99 100 IT IS WELL. Friends arc fled and loved ones dead, Winter's frost upon your head. Can you say, " It is well ?" Tender Jesu, risen Lord, To thy servant faith accord, And when waves of Marah roll. To thy cross I'll moor my soul, And trusting say, " It is well !" JOHNNY-BOY. IVE sixteen sisters more or less, There's May and Sue and Nell and Bess, An' I'm the only boy you see, — Now don't you know it's rough on me ? A feller don't have time to think, It's " Johnny-boy, where is the ink ?" An' " Johnny-boy, I wish you'd go An' catch the horse — now don't be slow," It's " Johnny-boy, you're in the way, Please run out doors awhile an' play," Or " Johnny-boy, come take this note," When I had planned to sail a boat. An' if I whistle in the hall Why baby Lou sets up a squall. An' " Johnny-boy must bring her milk — " An' " can't you find ray spool of silk ?" lOI I02 JOHNNY-BOY. If I Start out to fly a kite, It's " cut your kindlin' up 'fore night." An' "John, my son," in deep bass tone, *' Get out your books " — it makes me groan. It's " wash your head and comb your face," An' " keep your playthings in their place." It's "Johnny-boy, do this, do that," An' " John, my son, remove your hat." An' " Johnny-boy, don't slam the door, Nor throw those peelings on the floor," An' "run an' fetch the doctor quick, For sister Sue is very sick." I'm erran' boy an' waitin' maid. Yet not a single cent I'm paid. I hoe and dig and drive and nurse. Without a copper in my purse. An* if I want er fishing line, Or pocket knife, or ball of twine. Those silly girls are sure to say, " You bought a knife the other day." " The fishin' lines an' twine you lose Would buy the ribbons that we use. JOHNNY-BOY. IO3 They laugh and call me " sorrel-top," An' don't know when it's time to stop. They count the freckles on my nose, An' tease me when I stump my toes. An' yet from morn till day is done, It's " Johnny-boy " an' " John, my son." Now Ma's the only pard I've got, She's wo'th the whole endurin' lot, She knows a feller wants to play, An' lets him sometimes have his way. She makes him cookies an' jam pies, An' lets him bag the butterflies. She ties his June bugs by the legs. An' helps him set his turkey eggs. I'd run away — 'twixt you an' me — If 'twant for Ma, an go to sea ; But I'm her comfort an' her joy— She'd break her heart for " Johnny-boy." A lot er girls ain't wo'th their keep, But a "Johnny-boy "—he counts a heap. THE PASSING OF AUTUMN. THE sky has donned a mourning veil, The trees a miserere wail, A wintry wind is blowing chill O'er barren dale and frosty hill ; While Autumn, at its icy breath, Now prostrate lieth — still in death. In death ? Ah no, she sleeps to-night In cerements of dazzling white. She sleeps the dusky hours away, And dreams that Spring is on the way ; That birds are circling in the air. And breath of flowerets everywhere. Then Nature waves a magic wand, And Summer roses deck the land. The sportive Southland zephyrs blow, And butterflies flash to and fro. Lo ! Spring and Summer both have fled. And Autumn, risen from the dead, 104 THE PASSING OF AUTUMN. I05 Appears in splendor, as of old, In sunset hues of red and gold. Her sleep is past, her dreams are o'er, The sunshine floods her prison door ; Its lintels fringed with golden-rod. While purple asters prank the sod. As seasons pass breathe not a sigh, For Nature's glories never die ! YANITA. (A Spanish Love Song.) WEET Yanita, Amorita, Siren by the Mexique sea, Whisper words of love to me. In our light panaza drifting, Fleecy moonbeams o'er us sifting, Silv'ry haloes circling round thee, With supernal light have crowned thee. Sefiorita, Sweet Yanita, List thee now to my guitarra Wooing thee with dulcet strain, Say not, love, my suit is vain. Amorita, Soft and low, Murmur, like the water's flow, Tender words before I go, io6 YANITA. 107 Sweet Yanita, Araorita, Ere the moon has shed its light, While the crested waves are white, Let me see the love-light glisten, While to blissful words I listen, Let ray throbbing heart rejoice In the music of thy voice. Sefiorita, Sweet Yanita, Flexile lilies bend to greet her ; List the wavelets plash the tune As we thread the deep lagoon. Amorita, Let me know. As the drowsy waters flow. If you love me, ere I go. Sweet Yanita, Amorita, As the bubbles to the sea, Love, thou art a part of me ; Closely nestling on my breast, Lips and eyes and hair caressed. While my kisses fall like rain, Words are meaningless and vain. I08 YANITA. Sefiorita, Sweet Yanita, Than the damask roses sweeter, Mexique maiden, I adore thee, Love me, love me, I implore thee. Amorita, Bliss Divine, Ruby lips like fragrant wine, Whisper " Sefior, I am thine." THE GOING MAN. FAREWELL, vain world, he's going home, He hears the baby cry. He's going home, no more to roam, To croon a lullaby. " Kerwack, kerwack," The baby squalls, " Come back, come back," Loud echo calls. Its little heart is like to break Since mother went away, Before the populace to speak On topics of the day. The crowds applaud And call her back. She does not hear " Kerwack, kerwack." 109 no THE GOING MAN. The tears roll down its pallid cheek Till dawn begins to creep, It sucks its fists till faint and weak, It sobs itself to sleep. " Kerwack, kerwack," It cries in vain, " Come back, come back," In accents plain. When woman's rights are other's wrongs Beware the baneful snare ; The home is where the wife belongs. It needs her loving care. " Kerwack, kerwack," No longer roam, " Come back, come back," To child and home. 'Tis sad but true, the time is past When woman's chiefest joy- Is nourished by a husband's love And centered in her boy. " Kerwack, kerwack," The cry is vain, She will not hear The plaintive strain. THE GOING MAN. m Ah, grievous state, ah, fatal age, With many evils fraught, When clubs and social life engage The woman's every thought. " Kerwack, kerwack," On every hand " Kerwack " is heard Throughout the land ! BE GLAD AND SING. HAVE you a band of little ones, A husband kind and true, A cosey home in which to rest When daily tasks are through ? Then envy not the rich, the great, Yours is a happier estate. No queen who proudly sits enthroned, Whose vassals come and go, Can ever feel the sweet content It is your lot to know. With sunny heads about your knee, Dear heart, how happy you should be ! Oh, guide those little ones aright, With tender love and care ; Their woes and troubles gently soothe, Their childish pleasures share. 113 BE GLAD AND SING. Your smile will make their faces bright ; When you are kind their hearts are light. And do not heed the thorns that prick When roses strew the way ; Enjoy the present blissful hour Ere it shall pass away, For all is fleeting here below ; The circling years bring joy and woe. The tiny birdlings in the nest, When summer time has come, Will spread their wings and fly away To seek another home. Your lonely heart will sadly yearn, Their childhood days can ne'er return. And sorrow comes to each and all ; A day, and who can tell ? The bells that rang a merry peal May sound a funeral knell. Then count your blessings and rejoice With grateful heart and lifted voice. "3 114 BE GLAD AND SING. I would not bid you force the door To view some future day ; The key in kindness is withheld — Your part to watch and pray. Be glad and sing, and leave the rest To Him who doeth all things best. IMPOTENT. 'iTH willing- hands and a loving heart, When the morning sun was lifted, And a firm resolve to do my part, I have drifted, sadly drifted ; For the dying rays of the setting sun Have found me resting with work undone. With tired hands and an aching heart, Ere the noon-day sun shone o'er me, I had watched my failing strength depart, With the evening still before me ; And the dying rays of the setting sun Behold unfinished the work begun. With folded hands and a saddened heart, I have seen the day declining, Mine eyes grow dim as the tear-drops start And I cannot still repining ; For the dying rays of the setting sun Reveal my life work still undone. "5 Il6 IMPOTENT. O nerveless hands and O stricken heart, Though blight of disease is o'er you, Though dark the night and the time seems long, Yet heaven is just before you, The work will be done though you stand and wait, When you enter at last the golden gate. Be patient, hands, and be true, O heart. And wait for the heavenly warning, Your earnest purpose will be revealed In the light of a blessed morning, And myriad voices proclaim as one, The welcome plaudit, " Well done, well done !" BRAIN CHILDREN. THE Mother Brain, through tidal ebb and flov/ Of vasty years, sends forth for weal or woe Brain children, peopling thick the universe. Some puling pygmies die still-born. Some live To view a second summer, then expire. Some linger on, but, dwarfed by cold neglect, Or damning doubt, or poorly nourished by A disapproving world, discouraged die. Some drift as derelicts on idle waves. Some cunning charlatans impose false creeds That for a time delude and lead astray. Some hiss as vipers, poisoning the air ; Anathemas are hurled that vitriol-like Sear tender flesh as with corroding fire. Some seeds of strife and deadly discord sow ; With naked sword in hand, while at their heels Are war dogs licking drops of human blood. Some scatter seeds of love that fructify The smiling earth with goodness and good-will, 117 Il8 BRAIN CHILDREN. While white-robed Peace, a messenger of light, Diffuses benedictions o'er the world. Some giants in their strength and power sway The fickle populace ; dynasties fall, Or toppling thrones uprise at their command. Immortal some ; the principles of truth Imbedded in their souls, like vital spark Translated into heaven, can never die ! The earth may pass, the glowing stars burn out, World upon world dissolve and fall to dust, Yea, yonder heaven like parchment roll, but fixt Upon a granite rock of truth they stand, Immutable as deity itself ! MY LOVE. MY love is like a lily bud Unfolding to the light ; Her graces, like the petals fair, Distill a fragrance rich and rare ; She fills my heart. She thrills my heart, This dainty, winsome sprite. Her eyes are like the violet So modest, yet so bright ; The fringed lids sweep o'er a cheek Where dimples play at hide and seek ; Those eyes of blue. So leal and true. That thrill me with delight. 119 120 MY LOVE. The vermeil lips carnations are, With morning dew empearled ; Sweet arching lips that smile and pout, Or merrily a laugh rings out ; A maiden fair, A flow'ret rare, Unspotted by the world. Her goldilocks are deftly twined Round fingers fair to view, Then lightly fall in wealth of curl. That sets a throbbing heart awhirl. Ah, little girl, With hair acurl, I love you fond and true. I fain would pluck this virgin bloom And wear it 'gainst my heart ; Life's clouds would shine with silver light. And love would cheer the darksome night ; Her hand in mine. Ah, bliss divine. To love and ne'er to part ! AN APPARITION. I MET a timid maid yestreen Who blushed a conscious red, Together smote my knees with fear, I shook with inward dread. A spook, a spook ! I cried aghast, No modern maid doth wear Such gentle mien — I crossed myself And breathed a silent prayer. With quaking limbs I turned and fled, Scarce knowing were I live or dead ! 121 TRUE GREATNESS. IF laureled heroes could eliminate All pride of heart, and let the gentle grace Of sweet humility supply its place, The noble deeds performed were doubly great. In pride and self laudation we behold The dross refiners separate from gold. 122 DE PROFUNDIS. DBDICATBD TO MY DEAR FRIEND, MAKY STRUDWICK NICOLSOM. THE sunshine faded from the room, Nor left a ray of hope or light ; And grewsome shadows entered in As twilight deepened into night. From out the solemn silence stole In whispered words, "■ The child is dead !' An awesome hush fell like a pall On watchers g^ithered round the bed. And art thou dead, my fairest one ? My heart can never call thee dead — The little hands I hold in mine, As thou art resting on thy bed. Will clasp my face when morning light Has wakened thee from thy sweet sleep ; Yet tears unbidden fill mine eyes. And loving friends around me weep. 123 124 I^E PROFUNDIS. Beneath the sheet and snowy spread Each night I fold thee from my sight ; On downy pillow couch thy head, Thy form arrayed in robes of white. I print a kiss upon thy brow, And view, as now, thy sleeping face — So innocent and free from guile. So full of sweet, unconscious grace. At early dawn the mock-bird's lay Will break the stillness and the gloom ; The sunlight of another day Dispel the shadows from the room. The singing of the joyous bird Will rouse thee from untroubled sleep ; Yet tears unbidden fill mine eyes, And loving friends around me weep. I cannot call thee dead, my child, Though icy cold thy little frame — I plead with thee in accents wild To speak again thy mother's name. O Lord, thou know'st a mother's love ! Dear Lord, let this cup pass, I pray ; And when this weary night is o'er My child awaken with the day DE TROFUNDIS. I25 Gethsemane ! Gethsemane ! That comes at last to each and all — With sobbing cries and breaking heart Within thy stony gates I fall. I prostrate lie, and there behold The drops of mortal agony That from the brow of Jesus rolled In garden of Gethsemane. " Let this cup pass :" I hear the words That broke upon the solemn night — " Yet not ray will, but thine be done," And all his fears took instant flight. And here a light breaks on my soul, A light supernal and divine ; With trembling lips I breathe the words " Thy will be done, O Lord, not mine." I would not call thee back, my child, My loss is thy eternal gain ; Secure from sin and sorrow's thrall. And every doubt and fear and pain. Be still, my heart, repine no more, Let tears no longer dim mine eyes ; This pilgrimage will soon be o'er, My child will live — beyond the skies. 126 DE PROFUNDIS. We'll meet again in realms above, This sleep of death will soon be o'er ; In Jesus' arms, where all is love, Thou'lt wake upon a fairer shore. Beyond the gloom and dreary night For me a blessed day be born ; A thousand suns shall shed their light To greet that resurrection morn ! MY LADY AND I. FOR a year and a day I must tarry away ; 'Twas the will of my lady, of her I loved best. With a sorrowful heart when she bade me depart, I was fain to submit, it was vain to protest. A year and a day I must tarry away, Alack a-day, sadly I hear and obey. Not for honor or fame, nor to gain a great name Did my lady decree that I leave her alone. My affection to prove, and the strength of my love, By this means she declared would be perfectly shown. For a year and a day I must tarry away, Alack a-day, sadly I hear and obey. 127 128 MY LADY AND I. With a tear in her eye and a sobbing good-bye, She bade me " God speed" as the ship sailed away. " I'll be faithful and true as the stars unto you," She whispered to me, but no word could I say. A year and a day, Would it e'er roll away ? Alack a-day, sadly I hear and obey. For a year and a day I had tarried away Not a message nor line from my lady to me. A wand'rer no more on a lone, distant shore, I brought my fair bride home from over the sea. Alack a-day, well-a-day, What shall I say ? To her who was constant A year and day ! Ah, my fears are at rest though I stood not the test That my lady imposed for a year and a day : She is wooed, won and wed, with a stranger she fled, To escape my reproaches she hastened away. Alack a-day, well-a-day. What shall we say ? When neither was constant A year aod a ds^y \ LIFE. BEHOLD lis toiling- up a mountain side, Its summit we attain ; Then with increasing impetus descend, And breathless reach the plain. And so the steeps of life are slowly passed, Until its zenith won, Adown its slopes we glide — its years like trees Flit by — and life is done. 129 THREE IS A CROWD. THE first sweet kiss, Where is the harm ? The tender pressure Of an arm ; Two heads drooped low, One hand caressed, A sunny head Upon your breast. The maid no more Is just the same ; And you and she Must share the blame. From off a peach You lightly brush Its greatest charm, The downy blush. 130 THREE IS A CROWD. 131 But if you claim The maid or peach, No need such Platitudes to preach. Another's counsel You despise, Deeming your course Exceeding wise. You'll work your own Sweet will I ween. And let no meddler Come between. WOMANHOOD. BY airs ^olian wooed, so softly sweet, The folded bud becomes the full blown rose ; Its clinging, blushing petals open wide, And all the secrets of its heart disclose. Not so the human flower ; the woman's heart Holds something sacred, from the world apart. 132 INFELICE. THEY say the skies are tinted blue, And flecked with clouds of lovely hue ; That flowers of every color blow From brilliant shades to purest snow ; That butterflies dip here and there, Like fairies flitting through the air ; A winding streamlet flows to meet The velvet sward beneath my feet ; The dazzling orb is screened from view By grateful shade of emerald hue ; A sparkling rainbow spans the sky. Its varied colors please the eye. All nature glows with beauties rare ; No other charms with hers compare. She deftly paints, with artist hand, Bright pictures to adorn the land. 133 134 INFELICE. Alas for me ! a little mound, With ivy crowned, in hallowed ground ; A shrouded form, a pallid face That erst was full of childish grace. With floating curls on sunny head, Now resting with the silent dead — These things I see, through mist of tears That deepens with the coming years — Ah, woe is me ! The dimpled hands across the breast Are folded peacefully to rest. The fringed lids o'er eyes of blue, And cherub lips of coral hue. Like chiseled marble — cold and white — Shut out all nature from my sight. These things I see, through mist of tears That deepens v/ith the coming years — Ah, woe is me ! They say the bird with velvet throat Delights to trill a blithesome note ; That maiden fair with matin lay Trips joyfully along her way ; That merry sleigh-bells chiming say, " Away with care, the world is gay !" INFELICE. 135 And light hearts laugh with childish glee At sound of lively minstrelsy ; That raindrops patter on the pane, In tinkling-, musical refrain ; That purling streams in rhythmic flow Forever on their journey go ; Sweet echo catches every strain And gives the music back again, While harmony unites the spheres, As on they roll through endless years. Alas for me ! I strain mine ear For music I no longer hear. The pattering steps of twinkling feet. And silv'ry laughter, clear and sweet ! The prattle of a baby tongue, As sweet as song by seraph sung ! No other music charms mine ear, No other sounds I care to hear. Ah, woe is me ! Alas for me ! I strain mine ear For music I no longer hear. A lisping voice that said " Good-night, God keep mamma till morning light." 136 INFELICE. The morrow brings no baby kiss To fill an aching heart with bliss ; No other music charms mine ear, No other sounds I care to hear. Ah, woe is me ! A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION. " y^~^OME here, my little son, and see \^^ What God has given you and me A tiny baby fair and sweet With dimpled hands and cunning feet. It won't be long ere he can play And frolic with you every day." But Eddie sadly shook his head, — The tear-drops fell upon his coat, — Then sobbing audibly he said, " I'd rather had er billy goat." 137 THE IMPOSSIBLE. THE woman who essays to pose As maiden blithe and fair, A debutante with girlish charms, Is destined to despair. A futile task she undertakes, As well expect the rose Whose petals are expanded wide, Into a bud to close. 138 MABEL'S GRACE. SIT Up, little Kitty, Now kneel your head down, Keep 'till as a mousie, Don't wriggle or frown. We are goin' to say grace For this party — now then, O Lord, make us graceful, For Chris' sake, amen. 139 " HE DOETH ALL THINGS WELL." WHY need your heart repine and fret If cares beset, And say your life is sad and drear ? Be patient, dear, " He doeth all things well." Why trouble if the path be steep, And sadly weep When thorns and briers strew the way ? Be brave, and say, " He doeth all things well." If slander's arrows wound thy heart With poisoned dart. The sting may sear, but do not fear. Remember, dear, " He doeth all things well." uo " HE DOETH ALL THINGS WELL. I4I If sorrow's wings of dusky hue Sweep over you, And drive away the light of day, Though stricken, say, " He doeth all things well." The trials that your soul oppress And sore distress, Are sent as blessings in disguise By One, all-wise, Who " doeth all things well." For He who suffered on the tree For you and me. Will strengthen you in hour of need, O fragile reed ! " He doeth all things well." Be patient, dear, a loving arm Doth shield from harm, He leads you on in paths aright To endless light ! '^ He doeth all things well." THE WEEPING WILLOW. BEHOLD, all nature throbs with joy ; O weeping willow, lift your head, Your drooping branches upward raise And mourn no more your sainted dead. The azure clouds above you sail ; The ivies twine about your feet ; The flowers in rich profusion bloom And fill the air with odors sweet. The tender winds are wooing you, Your slender leaves they lightly blow ; The birds among your branches sing. And butterflies flit to and fro. The deepest grief must be assuaged ; No heart-sobs well for aye and aye : Like Niobe, you weeping stand. And sadly mourn your life away. 142 THE WEEPING WILLOW. What ties of kinship bind to you The mould'ring dust of mortal clay ? Though man forgets to grieve, you chant A threnody from day to day. O weeping willow, lift your head, Your drooping branches upward raise, Behold all nature throbs with joy. And sings thanksgiving songs of praise. 143 TEDDY. (the mither.) " >^^CH Teddy alanna, would ye lave me alone, Y^y Who'll comfort the mither when Teddy is gone ? Me nabors they call ye a broth o' a bhoy, An' I'm fra to declare ye me darlin' an' jhoy. " Och, sphake to me, Teddy, are ye wanthin' to die ? Och Father O'Day, on ye prayers I rely. It's the faver that's schalded the brain o' the lad, Since the starlin' flew past, it has raged vary bad. " Och Teddy asthore, I'm the one to be tuck, I'm ould an' so fable, och bother the luck ! Yore chakes are so red an' yore eyes are so bright, But yore pore little forrum it weighs not a mite. " It's a skilliugton bhoy that I hold to me heart, Brace up, me own darlin' ; O how kin I part 144 TEDDY. 145 Wid the little sick kid an' be lift all alone To fight the col' worruld as hard as a stone ?" (the sick kid.) Then up stharted Teddy an' laid his thin hand On the chake o'the mither — '* ain't ye got iny sand In ye craw, that ye snivel an' take on so bad ? Lots o' folks hav' got well fwhat was thin as a shad." (father o'day.) " An' Teddy was right an' the mither was wrong, In a vary few weeks he was hearthy and sthrong. In swimmin' an' fightin' he could not be bate, An' no bhoy in the warrd was so activ' an' flate. " If ye quistion the lad as to fwhat made him sick, ' Pisen thruck from the docther,' he'll answer ye quick. Not a worrud o' grane apples he ate by the score, Nor o' chaze that he begged from the ghrocery sthore. " Nor o' hours in the sun as a pitcher in ball, Faix none o' these things will he mintion at all. Och Teddy asthore is a thrifle too wild, Though his mither belaves him an ilegant child. 146 TEDDY. " But mithers are bloind as bats that can't see, An' Teddies are thick as the laves on a three. Should he live to be ould, he may make a foine man, For bhoys have been bhoys since the worruld began. "Though ye may not belaveit, I'm tillin' the thruth— I wanst was a bhoy mesilf in my youth. Though to sphake me own praise I was niver a han', Yit Father O'Day is a power in the Ian'." THE DOMAIN OF THOUGHT. BEYOND an avenue where silence reigns, Engirt by stately oaks and elms, is hid A palace whose dusk turrets cleave the sky. Within its walls, in chambers isolate, Is found the sober dwelling place of Thought. It there abides and rears its brood of young, And there through winding corridors they sport ; With Truth play hide and seek, now seen, now sought, Or soaring forth they reach Parnassian heights To revel in serene, idyllic joys ; Then stooping to the famed Pierian spring They from its mossy mouth quaff crystal draughts. Upon the gauzy wings of Fancy borne They float aloft in unalloyed delight ; And thus their halcyon youth in idlesse passed, They quit their dim retreat, their sombre sphere, Trooping into the garish light of day, And to a world that lists with bated breath, Rehearse the charms their favored eyes beheld. 147 DARKY DIALECT. DE OLE SEXTON. B RUDDER Amos is de sexton An' rings de Zion bell, To warn de saints an' sinners Dat destruction leads to hell. He's de bass an' tenor singer, An' kin beat de frogs in June ; Fur at all distracted meetin's He's de fust ter h'ist de chune. Oh, his mouf it wucks on hinges, He kin sing de hymn book fru, When he leads de people follows Like de sheeps de shepherd do. When he prays er pra'r fur sinners He kin e'enmost raise de roof ; You kin hear de shingles rattle When he frunders out de troof 151 152 DE OLE SEXTON. How de debbil on de steeple Knows jess whar de wicked sit, Ef dey don'l ruin' out he'll cotch 'em Jess as shore ez holy writ. " Don't you see his white teef shinin', An' his red eyes snappin' 'roun ? An' he's grinnin' like er possum On de sinners dat he's foun'. " When he jumps down 'mongst dese benches Den de wool an' fur will fly, So repent uv all yore meanness, Or he'll git you by-um-by. " Oh, dis good ole anglo sexton Is er bright an' shinin' light. An' he'll shout right inter Glory Jess like Enock tuck his flight. Den de gates will swing wide open. An' de angels dey will sing, " Here comes Amos, de ole sexton, Let der harps an' timbers ring. "Here's de crown awaitin', Amos, Hang yore hat up on er nail ;" Fur de promise ter de righteous, It am nebber gwine ter fail. TOBY'S REPLY. OTOBY was a darky who could pick the banjo fine, And he could cut the pigeon-wing and give your boots a shine, waited on the students at the Uni-var-si-tee, And at any kind of devilment was quick as quick could be. Not only versed in devilment, but also repartee, For the laugh was on the student of the Uni-var- si-tee Who passed him on the stoop amid a crowd of boys one day. And out of fun accosted him — " O hello, Tobe, I say — " What are you going to do when Satan gets you by and by ?" " Wait on de students, Massa," he promptly made reply. 153 THE OLD MAMMY. {A Darky Lullaby.) usH, HI baby, en go ter sleep, Mammy gwine tell him tales er heap. Mammy gwine sing him songs ernuff, Jess let Mammy git er dip uv snuff. O what make yer holler lak dat ? Jess look at ole brindle cat, Jumpin' en kervortin', sniffin' en snortin', Caze she done kotch er rat. Did HI baby git snuff in its eye ? Shet dem peepers en don' you cry. You's plum wo'd out, you runs all day, En don' do nuffin but eat en play. O how come you holler lak dat 1 Patty cake er baker's pat, De cat lick her chops, fur she eat up de rat, Patty cake er baker's pat. 154 THE OLD MAMMY. 155 Hush, lil baby, Mammy's lil man Gwine ter be president uv dis Ian', Lil bar haid gwine w'ar er crown, Stop dat kickin' 'fore I put yer down. what make yer twis' on my lap ? Ef yer don' min', I let yer drap ; Now you is yawnin' en ginnin' ter gap, 1 speck yer gwine take yer nap. Now lil baby kin lie in his crib, Les' unbutton dis ole wet bib. Don' you picaninnies make no fuss, Or I'll lay I'll make yer git up en dus*. Mammy's lil man is fas' ter sleep, Mammy sho lubs dis chile er heap ; O she lubs dis chile twixt me en you Er heap sight mo' dan his Mudder do ! DE 'LECTION SURE. DE white folks low dat dey's de race What's gwine ter win de day, Dat hebben wan' made fur colored folks Dat shout en sing en pray, I'm gwine ter argify de case, En show widout er doubt, Dat we will walk dem golden streets. En facks will b'ar me out. Den let de white man 'joy de quails En mammon by hisse'f. We'll eat de husks — but jedgement day Will fin' de white man lef. Fur tell me dis, you ornry set What mos' has gone ter sleep, Ain't de nigger wid his kinky wool Mos' kin ter Mister Sheep ? 156 DE 'lection sure. 1 57 Ob cose he is — dese woolly haids Wid woolly sheep will stan', En de white man wid de Billy Goat Be ranged at de lef han'. Stop puttin' b'ar grease on yer haid Ter comb de kinks out straight, Fur dese same woolly haids will kear You saf't th'ough Peter's gate. A RAT TRAP. NCT erbout de hour uv midnight, stealin' chick- ens by de dim light Uv de moon dat shone widin de cracks erbout de hen- house door ; Whilst dera chickens squawked en fluttered, sud- dently er yell I uttered, " Debbil's got me shore," I muttered, fur er rat trap on de floor Snapped my jaybird heel en helt it, den I started fur de door ; Darkness dar, en nothin' more. Fur de moon giv' light no longer, but dat pain wuz gittin' stronger, En I tore eround dat hen-house, in de dark I'd los' de door ; Suddently it swung wide open, en erfore er word wuz spoken, 158 A RAT TRAP. 1 59 Ev'y j'int I had wuz broken, being yanked erbout de floor. Den dat white man to de lock-up marched me from his hen-house door — Jest fur stealin', nothin' more. In dat cell I still am sittin', chewin' en tobacco spittin', Honin' fur dem fat young pullets drapt erpon de hen- house floor ; Killin' flies en 'skeeters shooin', O, dat trap wuz my undoin', Dragged me 'long de road to ruin, en my heel am stiff en sore. When dis nigger nex' goes stealin', he'll look out fur rat traps shore, En step on 'em— nebber more. A WRONG INFERENCE. «« "T X THY, old Uncle Abe, if your tidings are true, Y Y An era of progress is dawning for j'ou. They were plowing you say, without horse or man ? The world is advancing as fast as it can I " No horny hands holding the plow will be found, No * gee up ' and ' haw there,' in tilling the ground — A motor electric, to furrow the land, An underground current, as I understand." " Why, boss, sir, I t'inks you has made er mistake. Plowin' like dat, sir, would sho' take de cake ; But you's wrong in yore 'elusions, — I seed it, you know, — Twas er ox an' er 'omau dat made de plow go." 1 60 A PLANTATION SCENE. Now all you picaninnies dar, come stan' up in er row — Say whar is Sukey's Bill en Bob, en Sally Ann's black Joe ? Dey is slappin' sides en runnin' — now what fur is yer late ? Go back, erfore I knock yer down, en shet de gyar- din' gate. * Don't let me see yer wink er blink, don't nair one bat his eye ; I'll be back in er jiffy wid yer vittles by en by." Dey keep er lookin' stiddy et de long en narrer trough, Not er nigger wunk or showed his teef, er dared to sneeze er cough. i6x 1 62 A PLANTATION SCENE. Den Granny from de kitchen brung pot-liquor in er pot, En po'ed it in de empty trough, — 'twas jes* er bilin' hot ! Den she tuck de fat corn dodgers en crumbled uv 'em up, En 'lowed de little picanins could corae up dar en sup. Den dey all cut de pigeon wing, en squatted on de groun', While granny tuck her battlin' stick en stirred de liquor roun' ; She gib de sign fur startin' when she counted, " One two, free," En er gang uv little hongry nigs wuz happy ez could be. Dey'd ben' der haids en swill it, en you'd hear one raise er shout, When his black ban's foun' er dodger, en he'd proudly pull it out, Depresen' time don' tech de happy days er long ergo. When I wuz onc't er little nig, en stood up in dat row. UNCLE JAKE AND THE LEVEE. " Bredderin an' Sister in — ^^T| — vE Lord holps dem dat holps deyselves. II Berlievin' dis tex' I toils an' delves, I makes my famberly chop an' hoe, An' you allers sees my cotton grow. When water kivers de face uv de yearf, I'm not er preachin' de secon' birf, I rolls up my breeches an' wades erbout, Buildin' er levee ter keep it out. *' De Lord stooped down an' said in my year, 'Yo' crap is saved, Jake, nebber fear,' My tex' ter day is de Lord holps dose Dat holps deyselves, ez 5^ou all knows. Jess wuck an' pray, lak yer parstcr do, An' faif an' wucks will ca'y you fru. Yo' corn will sprout an' yo' cotton grow, An' yo' levee will keep out de oberflow." 163 164 UNCLE JAKE AND THE LEVEE. But just at this moment a form appeared In the door of the church, and a cry was heard, *' De levee's dun bus', an' de fiel's er lake, An' dere ain't nuffiin lef dat b'longed ter Jake !" Jake took off his glasses and stood like a stone, His faith was shattered, religion gone ; He glanced at his tittering flock and said. To the man in the aisle, as he scratched his head " Ef de crap is all ruint an' 'stroyed dat way, Atter dis nigger done wuck an' pray, Ef de Lord's dun dat, I tell yer, sir, He ain't de man what I tuck him fur !" THE DESCENT OF THE AERONAUT. A GANG of darkies, hoeing corn one day, Beheld a something huge that caused dis- may ; Above their heads it tumbled round and round. Then with a mighty flap it sought the ground. A great balloon it was — each darky fled— Fearing the monstrous thing would strike him dead ; All save old crippled Joe, whose gait was slow, He tripped and fell his length across a row. Out stepped the Aeronaut, most gaily dressed With red and tinsel broidered cap and vest. Joe struggled to his feet in mortal dread, His rolling eyes were starting from his head. His stiff, rheumatic knees together smote, He shuffled to a distance more remote, Then quaking said, while filled with reverent awe, " Good-mornin', Massa Jesus, how's yer Paw' ?" 165 POMP'S DEFENSE. I STOLE dem breeches, I 'knowledge de corn, But 'twarn't no crime, ez sure ez you're born ; Ef de motiv' is right, den whar's de sin ? I stole dem breeches ter be baptize' in. For my onliest pa'r wuz clean wored out, Dey gib up de ghos' when I 'gun ter shout. But r'ligion is mighty en mus' pervail, Doit lands er darky in de county jail. De chain-gang's got me en de coal mines too. But what could er 'fenceless, colored man do, When de jedge en jury lowed it wuz sin Ter steal dem breeches ter be baptize' in. Tell de folks all howdy en good-bye too, ril meet 'em in hebben when my wuck is fru, Fur my heart is white, do my skin is black, En I'm gwine ter trabble de shinin' track. i66 pomp's defense. 167 When de Lawd is jedge, I kno' He gwine sa5% " Pomp's straight ez er shingle en fair ez de day." He'll shout ter de worl' dat it twan't no sin Ter steal dem breeches ter be baptize' in. THE DARKY'S HEAVEN. ODis worl' am full ob trouble, But dar's one beyant de skies, E£ we walks de narrer pafway We will Ian' dar when we dies. En we'll be dar when we gits dar Ef I don't make no mistake, Wid its streets all paved wid glory, It will sho-li take de cake. Dar de crysteal streams er flowin' Make de watermilions grow, Dar de tuckeys gobble, gobble, En de chickens all roos' low. En we'll be dar when we gits dar Ef I don't make no mistake, Fur ter wa'r dem golden slippers. Dey will sho-li take de cake. i68 THE darky's heaven. 169 Dar'll be possum stew en taters, 'Nough fur all en some ter spar', Wid er crown en wings er waitin', Dat de colored angels w'ar. En we'll be dar when we gits dar Ef I don't make no mistake, Floppin' wings en shoutin' glory, O 'twill sho-li take de cake. Good ole Uncle Ned is sawing On his fiddle wid his bow — En we'll see de shining faces, Nellie Grey en ole black Joe, Fur we'll be dar when we gits dar, Ef I don't make no mistake, O de hebben ob de darky. It will sho-li take de cake. PARS DE HAT EROUN'. a -| — ^ F yer wants ter gain de kingdom," t~^ Said de preacher, gazin' 'roun', " Wants ter reach dat home in glory Whar we lays our burdens down, Pay ertention ter dis message, An' dat hebbenly city see, Gib yer heart to Gawd Ermighty, An' yer pocket-book ter me ! " Don't be no wise disencouraged Ef de stony way is long. Pars de hat eroun' my brudders Whiles we sing ernudder song. Ef yer lows ter git religion, Specks salvation full an' free, Gib yer heart to Gawd Ermighty, An' yer pocket-book ter me ! 170 PARS DE HAT EROUN'. I/I " Hear de words uv Cap'n Jesus, ' Lay not treasures up on earf, Make er liber'l, large collection, An' receib de secon' birf. When de dimes an' nickels jingle Den we'll shout er jubilee. Gib yer heart ter Gawd Ermighty, An' yer pocket-book ter me ! "Gib it all — an' don't begredge it — Don't be holden' eny back, Sackerfices must be offered When we walks de narrer track Pars de hat erlong de benches, Pars it slow, so all kin see, Gib yer heart ter Gawd Ermighty, An' yer pocket-book ter me !" THE END. MRS. MARY J. HOLMES' NOVELS. Over THREE MILLION Sold. "Mrs. Holmes' Fitories are universally read. Her admirers are numberless. She i„ in many respects without a rival in the viiorld of fiction. Her characters are always life- like, and she makes them talk and act like human beings, subject to the same emotions, swayed by the same passions, and actuated by the same motives which are common among men and women of everyday existence." Tempest and Sunshine. Chateau D'Or. Millbank. English Orphans. Queenie Heiherton. Edna Browning. Homestead on the Hillside. Bessie's Fortune. West Lawn. Meadow Brook. 'Lena Rivers. Dora Deane. Christmas Stories. Rose Mather. Edith Lyle. Cameron Pride. Cousin Maude. Gretchen. Darkness and Daylight. Marian Grey. Daisy Thornton. Hugh Worthiiigton. Ethelyn's Mistake. Mildred. Forrest House. Madeline. Marguerite. Dr. Hathern's Daughters. Mrs. Hallam's Companion. Paul Ralston (NewX Price $1.50 per Vol. AUGUSTA J. EVANS' MAGNIFICENT NOVELS. " Who has not read with rare delight the novels of Augusta Evans ? Her strange, wonderful, and fascinating style; the profound depths to which she sinks the probe into human nature, touching its most sacred chords and springs ; the intense interest thrown around her characters, and the very marked peculiarities of her principal figures, conspire to give an unusual interest to the works of this eminent Southern authoress." Macaria, $1.75 Beulah, $1.75 St. Elmo, $2.00 Vashti, $2.00 Inez, $1 75 Infelice, $2.00 At the Mercy of Tiberius, $2.00 (New). MARION HARLAND'S SPLENDID NOVELS. " Marion Harland understandsthe art of constructing aplot which will gain the atten- tion of the reader at the beginning, and keep up the interest to the last page." Alone. Miriam. Phemie's Temptation. Helen Gardner. Hidden Path. Sunny Bank. My Little Love. Husbands and Homes. Moss Side. Ruby's Husband. The Empty Heart. Jessamine. Nemesis. At Last. From My Youth Up. True as Steel. Price $1.50 per Vol. MAY ACNES FLEMING'S POPULAR NOVELS, " Mrs. Fleming's stories are growing more and more popular every day. Their life- like conversations, flashes of wit, constantly varying scenes, and deeply interesting plots combine to place their author in the very first rank of Modern Novelists. A Wonderful Woman. A Changed Heart. Kate Danton. Pride and Passion. One Night's Mystery. Silent and True. A Terrible Secret. A Wronged Wife. Guy Earlscourt's Wife. Sharing Her Crime. Carried by Storm. A Wife's Tragedy. The Actress' Daughter. Maude Percy's Secret. Heir of Charlton. Lost for a Woman. The Queen of the Isle. The Midnight Queen. A Mad Marriage. Norine's Revenge. Edith Percival. Wedded for Pique. A Fateful Abduction (New). Price $1.50 per Vol. All the books on this list are handsomely printed and bound in cloth, sold everywhere, and by mail, postage free, on receipt of price by ^/^ G. W. Dillingham Co., Publishers, «3K 33 West 23d Street, New York. JULIIg; p. SMITH'S NOVELS. "The novels by this author are of unusual merit, uncommonly well written, clever, and characterized by great wit atid vivacity. They are growing popular and more populai every day,'' Widow Goldsmith's Daughter. Chris and Otho. Ten Old Maids. The Widower. Courting and Farming. The Married Belle. Blossom Bud. Lucy. Kiss and be Friends. His Young Wife. Price $1.50 per Vol. ALBERT ROSS' NOVELS. New Cloth Bound Editions, " There is a great difference between the productions of Albert Ross and those of some of the sensational writers of recent date. When he depicts vice he does it with an artistic touch, but he never makes it attractive. Mr. Ross' dramatic instincts are strong. His characters become in his hands living, moving creatures." Thy Neighbor's Wife. Young Miss Giddy. Why I'm Single. An Original Sinner. Her Husband's Friend. Speaking of Ellen. Love at Seventy. Out of Wedlock. The Garston Bigamy. Moulding a Maiden. Thou Shalt Not. Love Gone Astray. His Private Character. In Siella's Shadow. A Black Adonis. His Foster Sister. Young Fawcett's Mabel. Their Marriage Bond. (New). Price $1.00 per Vol. JOHH ESTEN COOKE'S WORKS. " The thrilling historic stories of John Esten Cooke must be classed among the Best and most popular of all American writers. The great contest between the States was the theme he chose for his Historic Romances. Following until the close of the war the for- tunes of Stuart, Ashby, Jackson, and Lee, he returned to " Eagle's Nest," his old home, where, in the quiet of peace, he wrote volume after volume, intense in dramatic interest." Surry of Eagle's Nest. Fairfax. Hilt to Hilt. Beatrice Hallam. Leather and Silk. Miss Bonnybel. Out of the Foam. Mohun. Hammer and Rapier. Captain Ralph. Stonewell Jackson. Robert E. Lee. Col. Ross of Piedmont. Her Majesty the Queen. Price $1.50 per Vol. CILIA E. GARDNER'S NOVELS. " Miss Gardner's works are becoming more and more popular every year, and thev will continue to be popular long after many of our present favorite writers are forgotten. Stolen Waters. (In verse). Rich Medway. Broken Dreams. Do. A Woman's Wiles. Compensation. Do. Terrace Roses. A Twisted Skein. Do. Seraph— or Mortal ? Tested. Won Under Protest. (New). Price $1.50 per Vol. CAPTAIN MAYNE REID'S WORKS. " Captain Mayne Reid's works are of an intensely interesting and fascinating charactCT. Nearly all of them being founded upon some historical event, they possess a permanent value while presenting a thrilling, earnest, dashing fiction surpassed by no novel of the day." The Sc^.lp Hunters. The Rifle Rangers. The Headless Horseman The War Trail. The Wood Rangers. The Wild Huntress. The Maroon. The Rangers and Regulators. The White Chief. The Tiger Hunter. The Hunter's Feast. Wild Life. Osceola, the Seminole. The Quadroon. The White Gauntlet. Lost Lenore. Price $1.50 per Vol. All the books on this list are handsomely printed and bound in cloth, sold everywhere, and by mail, postage free, on receipt of price by G. W. Diliingham Co., Publishers, ^33 West 23d Street, K'ew York. ^^ °'= 897 598 , ^M.